Kurtofsky
by ChasingTornadoes
Summary: A wondering set before the events of "Furt."  A lil after the fact, I'll admit, but I'm getting caught up since I had to wait for the site to approve me. :   Enjoy!
1. Chapter 1

By Rian

November 22, 2010

Dave swaggered to the bathroom, keeping up the pretense as long as he could. The second the door swung close, he began to hyperventilate. What had he just done? Why had he just threatened Kurt…again? He was spinning, and the mirror offered no solace. He saw his own overweight, sad, scared mug staring back at him. What had Kurt called him? Chubby, sweaty and balding. He was all those things. How was it that this guy could see right through him?

He crashed into the last stall and sat down in the shadows. He brought his fist to his mouth to keep from screaming. It just keeps getting worse, he thought. I can't control myself. Not around him. I see him and I just forget myself. A mental split happened and on the one side, he wanted to beat the kid to death for being who and what he was and so happy and so perfect and so…perfect. But Dave knew the other side well. He knew what the other side was.

He remembered the dreams he'd started having about Kurt. Innocent and playful and then successively more potent and sensual. He'd never felt so alive as he did in those dreams, and yet he always woke up. Crying, usually, when he realized it wasn't real. It would never be real. Kurt hated him, and had reason to. Dave was a monster. Jekyll and Hyde. Kurt would never let him hold his hand, or take him to dinner, or listen to Dave sing.

And besides that, Dave's father would beat the shit out of him. He'd heard for years about the damn gay agenda and the faggots and the fairies. He believed right along with him. Until Kurt. Until Kurt smiled and flipped his hair and sang in his haunting voice and Dave was dying and yet alive. What was wrong with him? This skinny little kid wears a new pair of pants and Dave wanted to follow him like a puppy. And now he'd done the worst. Not only did Kurt know, but he rebuffed him. He even brought that Blaine kid to "talk" to him and "help" him.

Yeah, I bet Blaine wants to "help" Kurt alright. Help himself to Kurt is more like it. And why not, Dave thought bitterly. He's hotter than I am, smarter, nicer. I wanted to kill him, not Kurt. Kill him to keep him away from my…the guy I…He couldn't say it. Not even to himself. It was too strong, too terrifying. Dave's panic level rose. What if Kurt leaves to go to Blaine's school? I'll never see him again. I'll never have a chance…I don't have a chance now. He hung his head and thought. Thought and thought.

Of course, the suicide thoughts came. He'd had them before. Anytime his father started railing against the gays. Everytime his little sister cried because he'd scared her by accident. Every time his Mother took another drink and ignored him. And Kurt had been his hope. Even in the worst moments, when he was so jealous and mad at Kurt that he pushed him and called him names and threw Slushies at him, he'd dared to hope. He'd thought, maybe he'd care about me.

Dave had seen Kurt pine away after that dumbass Finn all last year. And strangely, now that their parents were involved, it seemed like Kurt had gotten over it. Even when that Sam kid showed up, Kurt still didn't really bat an eye. But he had looked so sad, until Blaine showed up. And now he was all smiles. Laughter. Singing better than ever. And Dave was furious about it. Would Kurt ever act like that because of him? Could he? What can I do? What's wrong with me?

Miss Pillsbury would be no help. She was nice, but about as deep as a puddle. And no one could know. Kurt and Blaine knew already and that was one too many. Dave wanted to track that blackhaired freak down and beat him senseless. Then Kurt would like him. Survival of the fittest, winner takes all. And then Kurt would never speak to him again for hurting his friend…his boyf-NO, Dave thought. Not while I can breathe. But why bother?

He wanted to retreat to his thoughts, his memories of his dreams, his waking fantasies. They were his only escape, but they were all centered on Kurt. Had been for some time. Was this obsession? Dave shuddered at his own musing. I need help, he thought. He'll never want me like this. I can lose all the weight I want and change my attitude, but he won't want some schizo. No one does now. He leaned back to stretch and then leaned against the cold concrete wall. It was freezing against his moist skin.

His favorite dream was walking up to the Hummel house and ringing the bell. He held a plastic box with a purple orchid in it. Orchid because they're hard to grow and rare and valuable. And Kurt's Dad would answer the door and smile at him and welcome him in, like a real father. And then he'd wait and suddenly Kurt would be at the top of the stairs in a form-fitting black tux, of a fashionable sort that he would like and would be the only one who could pull off.

He'd say hi and that Dave looked great and maybe even kiss his cheek and Dave wouldn't wipe that kiss away ever. And Mr. Hummel would take their picture and then they'd ride in a long black limo to the Prom, huddled together, whispering, laughing, maybe stealing another peck on the cheek. Or on Kurt's lovely soft hands. They'd walk into the dance and the whirlwind of the evening would start. Dancing to the stuff Kurt loved and Dave secretly loved, like Lady GaGa and Madonna. And then they'd slow dance, Kurt's soft head leaning on Dave's strong shoulder.

And they'd be announced as the first ever Prom Kings, and get matching crowns. And then it'd be midnight and the car would take them from party to party, before Dave whisked Kurt to a beautiful, luxury hotel room. And they'd walk in and Kurt would spin around slowly and look at Dave with such…love…Dave realized he was crying again. Softly, and then remembered again what he'd just done.

He jumped at the sound of someone coming in. He also jumped because he knew he had to do something. He had to change. He had to get help. He had…to win Kurt. He had to earn the love he felt. He didn't deserve Kurt, but he knew he could. He wanted to try. He slammed out of the stall, almost upending that Artie kid in the wheelchair, and did something he'd never done. He apologized. Artie froze, expecting the worst, and Dave just winked and ran out. He'd winked earlier. And it meant even more this time.

He ran to his locker and grabbed his hockey stick. He wasn't ready to run into Kurt again, so he took the side door to the student lot to get to his truck. Hopping in the front seat, he revved the pickup to life and flipped the station away from the grating guitar rants and carbon copy rap he pretended to like and found something joyful. Katy Perry of all things. Teenage Dream, indeed he thought laughing. He wheeled out of the spot, almost slamming into Puckerman and his beat up Dodge, but he waved and shrugged and moved on. As he pulled out of the school lot, he saw Kurt walking sadly to his own truck. He never realized Kurt also drove a truck. Everything in him ached to go back, to apologize, to smother the boy with kisses.

But he knew he had to bide his time. It was going to take a miracle to undo what he'd done. But then, love was a miracle, wasn't it? Kurt was worth fighting for and waiting for. Dave began to sing full-throated as he headed for hockey practice.


	2. Chapter 2

By Rian

November 22, 2010

Kurt got up for the third time to apply more moisturizer in an attempt to disregard Finn's snoring. A year ago, Kurt would have given his life to be sharing a sleeping space with Finn. Now that it had actually happened, all he could think about was something along the lines of "thank GaGa I don't have to listen to that every night." Can you imagine, he smirked at himself in the mirror. Poor Rachel. Funny how quickly his crush on Finn had faded away. Now they were almost brothers. Their parents were closer than ever and Kurt had hopes of being a real family. He liked Carole so much, and she adored him almost as much as his father.

In truth, Sam had helped minutely with Kurt's crush vanishing. But then Blaine came into the picture. He met Blaine, and heard him sing and laughed with him and talked with him and confided in him. He wasn't sure what he felt for him yet, but he had a good idea. And he was scared of it since his feelings hadn't amounted to much in the past. But then there was…NO. Kurt actually slapped himself to keep from thinking it. But the sting only reminded him of being shoved into lockers and spun around by his shoulder. And grabbed and pulled into…

He began to pace. He couldn't talk to anyone but Blaine about it and Blaine had an early exam so he didn't want to wake him with another panicked text. Courage, he'd said. Courage, like the Cowardly Lion. Lions and tigers and bears…a big cuddly, strong bear. NO, dammit. What was wrong with him? Kurt looked out the window at the Blue November moon. No wonder everyone's acting crazy lately. That Neanderthal was just revved up on steroids or adrenaline or…hatred.

Kurt was so confused. This guy had tortured him, mercilessly. Then Karofsky kissed him. Kissed him passionately. Kurt had been terrified. And now he was scared again, since Karofsky had threatened to kill him if he said anything to anyone. Blaine knew though, and somehow, Kurt thought that bothered the jock the most. The first question had been "Is this your boyfriend, Kurt?" Almost hurt, but trying to fake bravado. Just like he always did.

Kurt hated him. Despised him. He was a big sweaty closeted ogre. Nothing more. Not like Blaine. So handsome, so confident, such a good singer. He and Blaine had been spending so much time together…movies, concerts, shows, dinners. And yet things were moving at a glacial pace. Not that Kurt was ready for more, but he felt more than he let on. He always felt so much, so fast. So stereotypical, he sighed.

Finally, Kurt decided to try to rest again. Finn had settled to a low wheezing, so maybe sleep would be possible with the air purifier to drown him out. Kurt laid his head down and closed his eyes. In his exhaustion, emotional and physical, he pictured Blaine's smile. His shining lustrous hair. Kurt wanted to get lost in it, run his fingers through it. He thought of how his Dalton jacket clung to his arms and chest. He imagined dancing in those arms, tumbling in those arms. Getting snowed in together…

But then, almost unconsciously, the jacket turned inside out from black with red trim to red with black trim. Blaine's face shivered out of focus, and a taller, stronger figure took shape. Kurt realized with a shock that he himself was on stage in a pin spotlight, singing, of all things, "Don't Cry For Me, Argentina" and in the front row, smiling up at him, with more adoration than even his own father, was Dave Karofsky. No, not Karofsky…just Dave. And in those big blue eyes, Kurt saw himself and his success and he sang out louder and with more gusto than ever he had or could. And Dave led the standing ovation, and was there to greet him and hold him and…kiss him when Kurt was handed the Sectionals trophy. As he melted into Dave's strong arms, he heard him whisper "I love you, Kurt" and as he was about to say it back, he saw Blaine over Dave's shoulder, looking shocked, or hurt, or satisfied, or something…and the dichotomy shook Kurt awake yet again.

It was dawn, now. And Kurt decided to get up and get ready early for school. Something made him take even more time and effort into looking his best today. Unaware of any true motivation, as he drove himself and Finn to school, he had silently made his decision. He would see how it went in school for a bit longer, but if things continued with Dave…Karofsky picking on him and hurting him and lying to him, and no one doing anything about it, he would leave. And where would he go? He'd go to be with the man of his dreams…his real dreams that ended happily, and not in any confusing way.

The day moved slowly, until just before Glee practice, when Kurt had to take a sudden detour because Karofsky was waiting just outside the Glee door, looking around sadly. He's probably got a Slushie to ruin my new sweater with. Or he's wanting to give me a shiner to go with my black turtleneck. Kurt's emotions roiled as he hid behind Lauren Ziesies from the AV Dept until Karofsky heard the bell and finally shuffled away, looking like a cross between dejection and fury, per usual.

The strange thing was, as Kurt sat beside Mercedes, who was already chatting his ear off about the new Rihanna single, he wasn't really upset. He had chills, but they were…of excitement, or fear…or hope.


	3. Chapter 3

By Rian

November 23, 2010

Blaine daydreamed through Warblers practice like he had daydreamed through most of the past three weeks. Not surprisingly, he didn't miss a cue or a note. He'd always been good at keeping focused, despite the world's best attempts to shake that focus. And the world had delivered Kurt…

Kurt. Blaine had friends before, mostly straight, mostly compassionate, but he'd never met anyone like Kurt. Someone so much like him, just a little further behind in their journey to self-comfort. And now, sitting here in His choir room, the angel boy's face flashed before his mental eye. So young and smooth and eager and hurt…When Kurt had started crying each time they'd been together, first when he was spying and then later when they had tried to talk to that creepy ugly jock closet case, it had about killed him. He remembered his tears like that. And he had had no one.

His parents had been sympathetic and let him switch to Dalton, but hadn't wanted to talk about it much now. They were glad he was happy and safe and left it at that. He was almost jealous that Kurt had such an involved, supportive father. And such strong, fast friends. Mercedes in particular was just amazing. She'd have been there in a heartbeat to defend her friend from that monster's attacks. What was his name again? That big beefy dumbass?

Karofsky, that was it. So typical and SO stereotypical all at once. Blaine's blood boiled thinking of him manhandling Kurt and then trying to pass it off as some bastardized affection. The jock was the typical meathead wall. Beating on the gays because he can't comfortably be with them. He'd even almost attacked Blaine, but Kurt stopped him. And seeing the hurt in his eyes when Kurt protected Blaine was worth it. How dare that guy think he could hurt someone and have them?

The jock had been upset that Kurt was with another guy. A cuter, smarter guy at that. It was almost pathetic how obviously attracted to Kurt this Karofsky was. But at the same time, Blaine had pity for him too. There had been a time when he'd been on that side of it. Someone he liked not wanting him at all. Not in the slightest, not even as friends. Yet another victim of the fear of things they don't understand. Blaine's heart had broken that day. Another broken heart among many.

But then there was Kurt. Blaine thought of all the time they spent together now. The texts, phone calls, all the shows they saw together. Any excuse really to hang out and spend time and…be close. He didn't want to rush Kurt into anything he wasn't ready for. He wasn't that oaf forcing himself on someone smaller and more vulnerable. That pig, he smirked. Not even remotely cute. And Blaine had tried to be civil, even offering an olive branch on behalf of "the gays." What a joke.

But back to Kurt. Blaine had boldly taken his hand at Dalton that first day. It was so warm and soft, and trembling. He wanted to quiet Kurt's fears. But was that the right thing to do? He didn't want to abuse their new friendship. He'd never had a mentor himself and being one actually felt really amazing. Kurt looked to him for support and guidance. And yet…there was something in his eyes that made Blaine hope. Made him want. Made him think of a snowy evening they might get trapped together. Where they'd have to snuggle close to keep warm and safe and alive. Be each other's lifeblood and lifeforce. Man, was this kid making him veer towards the dramatic fast! Was he in love?

He'd deliberately sung his song to Kurt that first day. Even in those first few seconds, he had hoped. No one could miss Kurt a mile away for being anything other than what he was. And Blaine loved that. He loved Kurt's clothes and smile and stories. But he couldn't help feeling that it was too soon. Too fast to react. He wanted to sweep Kurt off his feet and cherish him and make a life with him, if he could. Yet, he knew it would be slow and steady and polish that would win this race. If it was meant to be run. Kurt was worth that and more. He was worth waiting for.

Blessedly, practice finally ended and he could dash off to meet Kurt at Breadstix again for dinner. The other guys smirked at him. They knew what was going on and couldn't have been kinder about it. Blaine sang out what was left of his singing voice over the roar of the Autumn wind that blew his hair out in the car. He'd have to hurry and get there early to fix it. Everything had to be perfect if he was going to win his guy.

As he pulled into the parking lot, he saw Kurt's truck and parked nearby so they could walk together. Maybe tonight he'd try to steal another hand hold. Maybe. But as he turned off the ignition, he saw something bizarre and maddening all at once. Kurt was sitting in a window booth, the soft lighting lilting on his suede brown hair as he smiled searching out through the reflective windows for Blaine's eager face. But just out of his eyesight, but not out of Blaine's, in a dark patch of lot, sat an even larger truck with a tall silhouette leaning against it.

Hell, thought Blaine rapidly. It's that damn bear jock again. He followed Kurt here. This is getting spooky. Or…he was jealous. It hit him like one of those big trucks everyone seemed to drive. This guy had real feelings. And despite his reluctance to name them, he wanted to be near Kurt and see what was going on. And Blaine had to be there, to protect him, to defend him, to…win him. This guy was nothing like what Kurt needed and Kurt knew that, thank goodness. But…well every gay guy is jealous.

Blaine slammed his car door and methodically painted a smile that Kurt would see, showing off his perfect (thanks to extensive orthodontistery) pearl teeth. Just before he went in to eat with the guy of his dreams, he glared into the shadow where Karofsky had been, but was met by the sight of the truck peeling out towards the exit. That's it, coward, run. He'll never love you. You've messed up and messed with him too much. He needs me and I need him. I'll make him forget you ever existed, if he'll let me. No chance for you, hamhock. And with more gusto than he truly felt, he strolled into the restaurant and towards the booth containing his new best friend…who was looking at him, already totally smitten, and yet…too eager, almost confused.


End file.
